I'm a grandma!

The other day I picked M up from school and we headed down to the library, only to find that it didn't open for another 45 minutes. We decided to kill some time by going to Taco Bell for lunch. M was in a great mood and was very well behaved. This day she didn't go out of her way to engage those around us, but I kid you not when I say that she interacted with virtually every one in the dining room. Everywhere I looked people were smiling, winking and waving to my little girl. One woman told me that she must have gone back for a second helping of cute.

While we were sitting and eating, I noticed one of my co-workers in a nearby booth so I talked to him briefly about his recent promotion and upcoming relocation, and then we all went back to eating. When he got up to leave, he stopped by our table and asked if I was with my granddaughter. Thinking that I couldn't have heard him correctly, I asked him to repeat himself. Again he asked if M was my granddaughter, to which I replied that no, she was my daughter and he continued out of the restaurant without further exchange.

I may have been a bit haughty in my reply, although I was more surprised at his question than offended, and within seconds I found it all rather funny. I quickly dialed one of my friends at work and relayed the tale to her, which she also found quite hilarious. I heard a nearby diner giggling as she overheard my phone conversation, which helped reassure me that I'm not delusional in thinking it's a bit of a stretch to make me a grandma already.

I think part of the reason I was so surprised was because this co-worker used to sit in close proximity to me, and we had discussed that he had gone to high school with my husband's younger brother. While I'm pretty sure he must have been kicking himself as he was leaving, I kept pondering why he would have assumed I was M's grandmother. Perhaps he was confusing me with someone else at work that he knows is a grandma? While it wouldn't be under desirable circumstances, it is technically possible that I could have a young grandchild. Maybe he has other friends in their late 30s that are grandparents. Or what I have decided could be the most likely reason is that he simply failed to consider that two caucasian parents could have a child of color.

As M gets older, it seems like the difference in our family's coloring comes up a little more often. A few weeks ago the girls were playing on a play structure in a neighborhood playground (not ours) that is on the way home from school. Another girl a few years older than C came and joined them, and we mentioned that she had the same first name as one of the girls' cousins. After another 10 minutes of play she asked if the girls were cousins. I told her that no, they were sisters. Sensing her confusion, C explained on her own that they were adopted. Then we had to clarify that both girls were adopted. Surprisingly she inquired about my infertility, but phrased it somehow about not being able to have kids of my own. While I confirmed that I could not give birth to my kids, I explained that adoption is a beautiful way to build a family and how it is a win-win situation for both the children that need parents to raise them, and the parents who want to have children - to which C heartily agreed. I hope that taking the time to have conversations with other kids will help plant the seeds for a positive view of adoption.

While adoption is not a daily topic in our household, it does come up regularly. C is now the most likely to bring it up and she goes thru cycles where she has many questions for days or weeks in a row, and then she's done with the topic for awhile. M has never shown much interest in the topic (neither did C at this age), so I was surprised the other day when she brought it up out of the blue. We were looking at shoes at the store when she became agitated and told me that she didn't want to come from someone else's tummy, she wanted to come from my tummy. I told her that I appreciate that she feels that way, but that it didn't really matter whose tummy she came from, I still got to be her mother! She calmed down and then asked if she was born in America. Yes, I said, you were born in American Samoa. Then she asked if she cried. I verified that she meant A, and supplied her once again with her birthmothers name. I told her that A did cry, but that A told me she was crying not out of sadness, rather because she was happy for M. A was crying because she was giving M a life that she couldn't have given her herself. She was happy because she knew that M was going to have two parents and a sister that loved her, and a comfortable home, and that she would have many more opportunities available to her than if she had grown up on the island.

And then, as suddenly as the topic came up, she moved on to something else. Who knew that I'd get all teary eyes while browsing for shoes! The whole exchange probably only lasted five minutes, but I loved having the opportunity to talk to her about her adoption and was very pleased that she was showing an interest. She must have liked what she heard, because the next few nights when I put her to bed she would ask me again why A cried.

Another call

Last week we got another call from DHS about a potential foster to adopt situation. J is a happy and healthy six month old baby boy who has been well cared for by his grandparents, who want to be grandparents and not parents at this stage in their life. The caseworker had me at "mellow".

When I asked her about J's ethnic background, she was a little taken aback. She said "He's caucasian, but does it really matter?" I briefly explained that while it isn't a deal breaker, we think it would be nice to have another non-caucasian child so that M won't stand out as being the only one physically different. She said "Well, he's 1/4 Jewish, if that counts." I don't think she was offended when I laughed at her.

We did go meet J and his grandparents. He truly was a happy and easy going baby, and the grandparents were really nice too! I don't know why I didn't feel any kind of connection with him. I really didn't feel anything at all, so I took that as my sign that J is not meant to join our family. After praying about my decision, I didn't feel any differently. P didn't feel anything either, but he's not expecting as much as I am either. He thinks that I'm expecting to feel like I've been hit by lightning. I don't think that I am, but I don't think it's too much to expect to feel strong feelings.

I already know that it's going to be different when we're talking about a child that is already here (and a greater risk that the adoption won't happen when doing foster to adopt) than when we adopted our girls as newborns. Although we were scared about both adoptions - whether everything would work out for us to bring the girls home, or where the money would come from - we felt very certain that we should pursue both opportunities, and that if the girls were meant to be ours that everything would work out. I'm sure that we would have been heartbroken had either girl not become our daughters, but it would have happened within weeks of our even becoming aware that we might be able to add to our family. Now we could have years of loving a child and then not being able to make them a permanent part of the family, not to mention taking into consideration how a failed situation could affect our girls. I just don't want to take any chances unless I feel confident that this is what we should do.

It's hard to understand why such a happy child shouldn't be part of our family. It's even harder to explain to caseworkers and especially the grandparents why we weren't going to take J. Understandably, I think the grandparents felt that it was a personal rejection - which it absolutely was not. Perhaps his case won't go the route of adoption after all, or perhaps there is a better family for him, or maybe our employment status is about to change and we just shouldn't be taking on the extra responsibility now. We may never know the "why".

On an adoption related note, I had an interesting little experience at the swimming pool last week. Most people don't give my little transracial family a second look, although I do occasionally have someone ask if M is adopted. This time a woman asked me if I was M's babysitter! I assured her that both girls were mine. She looked a little confused, but I didn't elaborate. She probably just came to the conclusion that I get around.

I have TWO beautiful daughters

My husband and I have a pet peeve I'd like to share with you, one that particularly frustrates P. Whenever one of us is out with the girls, strangers make a lot of comments about our youngest daughter. Seriously, if I could charge a $1 for every compliment on M's hair, we'd easily be able to fund her college. People stop us very frequently to say how beautiful M is, and mostly just ignore C. C is old enough now that she does notice, and while she doesn't say anything, you can see the hurt on her face. I think it bothers P so much because he doesn't know how to respond. I usually try to reach out to physically touch C, and say something like "thank you, we have been blessed with two beautiful daughters". Some will then say something nice about C, but you can tell that it doesn't have much meaning for her at that point.

C garnered her fair share of attention when she was a baby, but once she became a big sister that all changed. I do know that being the youngest has a lot to do with it, because last year, when we had a foster daughter 11 months younger than M, M didn't attract the same volume of attention as she did before and does now. I also understand that much of it is simply because M stands out from us. We live in a very open minded area, and I never get any stares and rarely any comments about us being a transracial family - but let's face it, people notice a brown skinned child accompanied by a caucasian parent. I'm thankful that the attention received is positive, I just wish people would be a little more sensitive.

Last night P relayed an incident to me that just broke my heart. I guess C was looking at M and said, "M, you are soooo beautiful. I wish I was beautiful like you. I wish I had curly hair like you. I wish I had brown skin like you. I wish I had brown eyes like you. I wish I had dark hair like you." Of course, P did all he could to assure her that she was indeed beautiful too.

I always figured that when the girls got older, we'd be perming C's hair and straightening M's hair, and they'd wish they looked more like the other - but I never thought it would start so soon. Meanwhile, we'll keep doing all we can to help them develop healthy self esteems that are NOT centered on their appearances.

While I'm dwelling on the physical differences between the girls, I thought I'd share a little anecdote from when C was younger. She was barely two when M was born. She must have thought that all new babies were brown, because she used to tell us that she had brown skin when she was little too. (She also used to say that her hair was going to get curly when she got older.) If I showed her a picture of her as a baby, and held it up to a picture of M, she was unable to tell me which one was her! Can you tell the difference? (These are their six month photos.)